


Moonblast on the rocks

by 1auriam



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Alcohol, Bartender AU, Dialogue Heavy, Family Issues, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-10
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-11-14 23:22:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18062165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1auriam/pseuds/1auriam
Summary: “I guarantee you; you’re right where you belong.”(Hand in hand, they settle to throw into the fire the bitter reminiscences of a past that’s best forgotten).





	Moonblast on the rocks

**Author's Note:**

> (( I think it's kind of too late to say this but I have been informed that there are a few hiccups grammar-wise. English is not my native language and unfortunately I don't have a beta-reader who would've kindly corrected those, so I must offer my sincerest apologies. I understand that may be a massive turn-off for you, but I hope you can still enjoy this silly thing despite its mistakes. Thank you kindly. ))
> 
> Happy Saiou day, everyone! This one-shot is kind of a personal love letter as to why I love this ship so much. It’s a very self-indulgent bartender AU in which the drinks (and I guess the setting?) are a reference to those from the visual novel ‘VA-11 HALL-A: Cyberpunk Bartender Action’. But don’t worry, even if you’re unfamiliar with it, you can still enjoy this story in its entirety.  
> I hope you guys who give this silly story of mine a chance will enjoy it as much as I did writing it. If you could, I’d really appreciate it if you left feedback as well. Thank you so much for reading!
> 
> Also!!! I just started my twitter today and did art for this fic. In case you wanna check it out (especially if you wanna get a grasp on their outfits) you can easily find it here: https://twitter.com/1auriam/status/1104734800613654531  
> And Harumaki -> https://twitter.com/1auriam/status/1109229043847708674

 

Despite being a Saturday night, the various rows of stools across the bar were empty. The reflection of adorning neon lights bounced against the brick walls, the hanging glasses and the ceiling, tinting the room in cozy shades of blues and pinks and greens, yet any regular patron could have sworn the ambience felt, in its own, strangely comforting way, as chilly as ever. The TV was on —the headline under the news reporter specified another one of the city’s latest tragedies was being discussed— but the volume was fully muted, leaving room for the jukebox’s music to soothingly fill the place instead. Shuichi restlessly rubbed his hands against his arms, softly cursing under his breath. He spared a glance at his coworker, Maki, who had just come out of the office’s door, headed straight to her usual position behind the counter and meddled with the jukebox’s buttons until she found a song much more desirable to her tastes. Shuichi’s eyes instinctively travelled to the opened entrance door where the faint smell of steam was coming through, and he contemplated the dim glow of the backstreet’s vending machines, flickering on and off in a meek attempt to stay alive. The sigh he allowed to escape his lips produced a misty breath.

Shuichi pondered over the _tiny, insignificant_ detail of how his manager never truly bothered to get a heater.

He travelled to his normal spot behind the counter but hunkered down to where what it seemed like countless cardboard boxes were awaiting him. He propped open the closest one and started piling up its contents —old magazines, receipts, unsolicited mail— into a bigger, more robust box that rested behind him labeled “bonfire material”. Shuichi’s nose scrunched up more and more with each new opened box as he fumbled over the items; something akin to pity rushing through his eyes. The miscellaneous objects he found started varying significantly —a pair of ragged boxing gloves, empty DVD cases, a velvety scarf, some cheap-looking toy. He soon closed his eyes and shook his head, resuming to his actions in a more casual manner.

“ID, please,” enunciated his coworker all of a sudden.

“You were serious when you said you were gonna make that boring, tasteless joke every time I visit, huh?”

At the sound of the new voice, Shuichi got up from his shrunken position. He offered a knowing glance at the speaker, who was approaching him with a bounce on his step, and before long, the corners of his mouth curled up in a grin.

“I’m not allowed to serve alcohol to children, so yes.” Sometime in the middle of Shuichi’s tedious labor, Maki had occupied herself wiping leisurely at a glass. She held it confidently while she continued her activities, not daring to look the individual in question in the eye.

“Ah.” The boy stopped in his tracks and lifted a finger to his bottom lip, mouth open ever so slightly. “Does that mean you’d do it if you _were_ allowed to?”

“Obviously not, considering I wasn’t going to serve you a drink whether you had an ID or not.”

“And who said I wanted anything from you to begin with?” He nonchalantly shrugged. “I have a much more agreeable bartender I can always rely on to get a beverage in this nasty bar, yeah? Besides, coming from you? Some kind of toxic substance would’ve been slipped on one of my drinks ages ago, I’m positive.”

“Don’t test your luck.”

He clicked his tongue. “ _My_ luck? I think you got it backwards.” A short snicker escaped his lips. “Unless you want me to call your boss on you, you better stop bullying this loyal client and go back to work.”

All he got from her was a very unsubtle roll of eyes. “Figures.”

“I don’t feel like wasting time on you, though. Got way more important business to attend to with this…” he momentarily paused, gesturing towards Shuichi’s general direction with his right hand. “…dashing gentleman over here.”

“Am I, now? That’s new.” Shuichi eyed his regular sheepishly, observing thoroughly how he now was sitting down on the stool in front of him. The boy rested his chin on his hands and graced him with a big, seemingly sweet smile.

“Would you prefer I call you a dust-eating freak again, then?”

“Yeah, I’d… rather not.” Shuichi briefly chuckled. “What will it be?”

“The usual, of course!”

“A _Moonblast_ coming right up.”

Shuichi reached for the shaker to his right, softly humming along to the jukebox’s music while he automatically added the ingredients into it. His regular kept his adoring, sparkly eyes pierced on his every movement, smirk never leaving his face. As soon as he began the blending, Maki’s voice rose once more, compelling them both to glance her way.

“You know, I’m one hundred percent certain that Kaito would back me up in case you decided to call me out for whatever reason. Just saying.”

He huffed and tore his eyes away. “Wow, thanks for the info. Whatever would I’ve done if I dared resort to that hopeless solution. For a cold-hearted woman, you’re more merciful than you seem.”

“Spare me the sarcasm. I’m simply warning you. Neither of us will hesitate for a second if you try and cause trouble again.” Maki set down the glass she had busied herself with and hastily approached them, half lying on the counter and pointing an accusatory finger at him. “And you better watch your tongue. Just because Shuichi usually puts up with you doesn’t give you a free ticket to get away with your usual crap. Frankly, it wouldn’t be a loss if you didn’t step into the club ever again.”

“Sheesh… I get it, chill,” he mumbled with a miserable expression, voice laced with a tremble. “I’m not here to commit arson, don’t be so harsh. What did I ever do to you, anyway?”

Maki straightened up and removed herself, approaching her original spot once more, now opting to wipe at the display cabinet. “Playing dumb won’t get you anywhere, and those doodles on the back access won’t clean themselves up.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” All traces of whatever hesitation might have been there before left to be quickly replaced by apparent obliviousness.

“Sure you don’t.”

Shuichi poured the contents of the shaker in a tall glass and with the ice tong added exactly three cubes. After he handed him over the drink, he raised a hand to the back of his neck, scratching lightly around. “I’m not sure I follow?” he offered. “Didn’t see any doodles when I parked my car.”

“Why of course, since there’s none. Maki’s just being delusional.” He showed Shuichi his common, saccharine smile once again, holding his drink with interest and taking a quick sip from its contents. “She loves accusing me of every little inconvenience that might happen around here, I guess.”

At his coworker’s preferred silence, Shuichi awkwardly chuckled some more. “I guess it’s no use trying to poke my nose into it.”

His regular then hummed thoughtfully, darting his eyes across the bar. “Slow day, huh? I mean, it’s fine and all, since I get to be all quiet and personal with my favorite bartender, but will you guys make ends meet? One would think this place would be filled to the brim with clienteles on a Saturday night.”

“Ah, weren’t you the one who said this was quite the pigsty the first time you stopped by, though?” Shuichi timidly replied while he returned to his original task, crouching down behind the counter.

“And you took that seriously?” he snickered.

“Why wouldn’t I? You seemed rather confident in your remarks.”

“And here I thought you were sharper than that,” he muttered with fabricated grief. “Turns out you’re as big of an idiot as everyone else around here.”

“Well… I suppose you _do_ come back very frequently.”

“Yeah. Wouldn’t make much sense to do so if I really thought this was just some… filthy hell-hole for sewer rats and all kinds of sketchy people or whatever, right?” He took a long swallow from his drink, then, averting his eyes to the side. “Though, that _might_ just be the reason why I like this place so much,” he added, matter-of-factly.

Shuichi began taking out the irrelevant contents of his last box as he mindlessly replied. “Is that so?”

“Nah, I’m just here for the music.” Shuichi noticed that his jolly response had chirped from above, so he glanced up only to see him laying half of his body atop the counter, inspecting his activities with curious intent. “What’s that you’ve been having so much fun with down there?”

The bartender picked up the items he had taken out of the now empty box and placed them on the counter, which coerced the boy to back off from his prying position and sit back down. He held in both hands the article on top for his regular to take a better look, revealing it was nothing but a neatly folded paper book.

“I actually think you might like this. These are old physical newspapers.”

“Woah, this is ancient!” he cried as he hesitantly reached with his hands, not yet daring to touch it. “I haven’t seen one of these in, like, forever! When’s this from, anyway?”

“Uh, um…” Shuichi flipped it over and searched for the date with his finger, carefully tracing it atop the musty front page. “It says… March 2nd, 1972. I assume claiming these are from a while ago it’s a bit of an understatement.”

“Yeah, no kidding.”

“Do you wanna take a look? Although I’m pretty sure someone like you must be rather familiar with this type of press already, so maybe it’s not that big of a deal.”

“Not at all!” he exclaimed. “Like I said, I haven’t seen one of these in about a decade or so. You know we don’t deal with print media anymore, and... When did they stop printing these again? It almost seems like” he made a pause to sip at his drink once again, letting out a pleased hum afterwards, “it’s been centuries or something.”

“Right.” Shuichi carefully handed over the newspaper for him to closely survey then proceeded to remove the others from the counter, placing them back on the floor. “Say, Kokichi. How come the chief editor of one of the most prominent news-blogs in the country hasn’t seen a physical newspaper in such a long time? At the very least, you must have studied these in your degree, no?” He heard Maki cough very out loud, but decided to ignore it and eyed the boy with interest instead, raising a contemplative hand to his chin. “Didn’t you do ever do any project about old press or something similar? I mean, you said you were my age, didn't you? It couldn’t have been _that_ long since you finished your studies.”

“Huh?” Kokichi took his eyes away from the paper, angling his head to the side, long hair strands smoothly gracing his cheek, and quirked an eyebrow at his inquiry. “Who said I studied journalism?”

Shuichi visibly froze. “You didn’t…? Then how did you…” he trailed off, only for Kokichi to silence him before he could muster any further words.

“Naïve as always, Shuichi? Just because I’m the owner doesn’t mean I have a degree on journalism. ” He chuckled heartily to himself and resumed inspecting the fragile journal in his hands. “I have my ways. Don’t underestimate me.”

“Ah, I don’t,” he modestly replied. “I just assumed that was the most logical prospect. Then again, I’m not the best example. I shouldn’t be one to judge.”

“Oh?” At this, Kokichi rested the newspaper on his lap and focused his gaze on the bartender, his piercing stare inquisitive. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Shuichi resolutely stopped, judging with hesitant eyes all the awaiting boxes by his feet he then awkwardly rubbed at his left arm. He took a few full seconds to formulate words. “I shouldn’t babble about my life, that’s not exactly my job.”

“Aw, come on!” Kokichi pouted, balling his hands into fists. “You get to hear all about my dark, dirty secrets and I’m not allowed to get to know _you_ better? That’s so not fair.”

“Says one of the most cryptic clients I’ve ever had.” The accused one lifted an eyebrow in response. Shuichi perceptibly winced and raised both hands hastily. “A-anyway, it’s not that I want to keep it to myself or anything. I’m still on duty, you know? I don’t want Boss to catch me slacking off.”

“Who the hell cares about what dumb ol’ Kaito thinks?” The annoyance of his tone was that akin to a child’s.

“ _I_ do?” Shuichi offered.

“Come on,” he pleaded. “He’s not even here and we’re already discussing stuff, what’s the hesitance for? Humoring your clients is supposed to be part of your job, right? I doubt you need to keep your hands busy at _all_ times, unless that simpleton is turning you into a slave.” He suddenly gasped, a miserable frown now present on his features, tears beginning to form in the corners of his eyes. “Or is it that you d-don’t trust me?”

“Kokichi…” he sighed, his expression morphing into something somber. “It’s complicated. I know Kaito wouldn’t give me trouble, but I _need_ ,” he gestured with his hands for emphasis, “my extra payment today, so I better focus, get this little favor done as soon as possible, and serve as many drinks as I can tonight. Do you understand?”

“Come again?” As soon as they arrived, the waterworks and any trace of sadness were gone. His voice had turned quite riled up instead. He gestured across the entirety of the room with his left arm. “Serve drinks to whom? It’s the slowest day I’ve ever stumbled across in here and you decide to give me the silent treatment now of all times? I’d rather you admit you don’t wanna talk about yourself with a stranger instead of dodging me with such a half-assed excuse.”

“…Right. You _don’t_ understand.” Shuichi’s gaze fell, lips spiraling into an unpleasant grimace.

There was a pause for consideration; an indecipherable blank stare replacing any past annoyance, mouth drawn in a thin line. But before Shuichi could react, Kokichi was promptly gulping down the remains of his drink in an immediate motion. The sound of the glass hitting the counter was loud on Shuichi’s ears.

“Can you get me a _Fringe Weaver_ , please?” the boy commanded in a sing-song tone, flashing him a toothy grin.

“W-what are you saying?” Shuichi stuttered, blinking rapidly. “You shouldn’t drink that fast. And ordering a strong one isn’t gonna make things better, precisely.”

“Did I miss anything? Since when was acceptable for a bartender to start lecturing their patrons on how and how much they drink? I’m no expert, but I believe that’s kinda counterproductive for the bar business.” Kokichi clicked his fingers and pointed towards the shaker a few times. “I ordered a drink and I’m waiting for it. Go on, do your job alright.”

“It’s also my job to make sure my clientele is in their right mind so they don’t have a stroke on their way back home then report us for the subsequent damage, you know?” Shuichi tried.

“More like an ethical responsibility,” he sneered. “Kinda egotistical too, if you ask me. And to that, I say, too late. A person ‘in their right mind’ wouldn’t dare hang out in the shabby nightclub of a creepy alleyway like this one in the first place.”

“There you go again…” Shuichi sighed, raising a hand to massage his temples.

“Didn’t you say you needed to work? So I’m giving you just that.” After that defiant remark, he inspected his nails. From behind the counter, Shuichi could feel his feet occasionally hitting the surface in a playful back and forth motion. “I didn’t stutter, did I? _Fringe Weaver_ , please.”

“…Coming right up.” He sighed for the second time, louder, and chose to comply with the boy’s demands. Maki, who was listening to the conversation, approached Shuichi and mumbled close to his face, though it was loud enough for Kokichi to hear.

“You know you don’t gotta do as he says just because he’s a client, right?” She then glared at the blamed individual. “I believe I told you not to mess with Shuichi.”

“Fuck off, Harukawa. I haven’t done anything. You’re too onto my case and I don’t like it.” He never shifted his stare away from his nails, murmuring said words in a bored complaint.

“Maki, it’s okay.” Shuichi put a calming hand on her shoulder and gave her an appreciative look. “He’s actually right. Besides, will you put a little more faith in me? I’m not about to intoxicate anyone knowingly.”

Although she seemed to take Shuichi’s words earnestly, she still kept her distrusting stare on Kokichi, who was seemingly ignoring her altogether. She exhaled a deep breath and, after a nod in agreement, went back to her place. Shuichi didn’t waste another minute to start collecting the ingredients for the requested drink, pouring them in the mixer meticulously. As soon as Kokichi noticed, a sly, satisfied grin was painted across his face. He tapped his fingers on the edge of the counter to the rhythm of the music as he eagerly waited for Shuichi to be done. Despite Shuichi’s lack of a performance whenever he prepared a cocktail, Kokichi’s eyes always lit up in pure glee at the sight of it, as if he was put on a spell. The fancy glass it was served in also seemed to greatly please the boy, since he couldn’t contain the infantile giggle that escaped his lips.

“Thanks!” he sung, rotating the glass with his fingers in observation a few times before pouring a significant amount of the liquid in his mouth. His facial expression instantly scrunched up, compelling him to gnaw on his bottom lip. The single drop of sweat that travelled down his cheek made evident that he was trying his very best to keep his composure intact. He repressed a displeased grunt in the back of his throat. “Mm, it’s good!”

Shuichi took a quick look at the open recipe book to his left and quoted: “’It’s like drinking ethylic alcohol with a spoonful of sugar’. Good, ¿huh?”

Kokichi nodded enthusiastically and took yet another nip of his drink, forcing a flawless smile on those once stressed features. “Good indeed! Does wonders for this chilly night.” He then picked up the journal from his lap and offered it in return, only for Shuichi to stop him midway, gently pushing back. “Are you giving this to me?”

“Yes. If you want it, it’s all yours.”

“But why? Isn’t this, like, a precious relic? Are you sure trusting, as Miss Cranky Pants here would say, ‘a dishonest, annoying brat’ like me with something so valuable is a good idea?” The aforementioned only rolled her eyes in response.

Shuichi chuckled and pointed to the big, sturdy box that stood behind him. “We’re about to burn pretty much all these things to ashes in a fire, so, in my opinion, gifting at least one thing that I know it’s about to be treasured by someone who gives it genuine value it’s… not that much of a problem.”

Upon closely inspecting the written words on the label, Kokichi disconcertingly retorted. “You have to be shitting me. Why would you get rid of these when they’re so impossible to find nowadays? Is the strong smell of the booze making you guys lose common sense?”

“Hey, don’t give me that. This is Boss’ stuff and I’m doing it at Boss’ request.” He visibly regretted his words, raising a hand to cover his mouth. “Actually, no, that’s not entirely right. Kaito was about to separate most of this himself, but I offered to do it in his place if he would spare me some extra cash for it. I’m already done separating the items he’s keeping, though, but I still have to move everything to the basement, which... will surely take a while.”

Kokichi then stared at him completely dumbfounded. “You _do_ realize you can sell most of these and get way more than just some extra cash, right?”

“Huh?” Shuichi straightened his posture all of a sudden, honestly taken aback. Beads of sweat were forming at his forehead. “I can’t do such a thing.”

“And why is that? You gifted me this and said it’s not an issue.” Kokichi then smirked persuasively, lowering his voice to that of a provocative murmur. “Besides, isn’t this _supposed_ to be trash? Kaito might’ve asked you to get rid of it, but I’m pretty sure he doesn’t care _how_.”

To that, Shuichi’s physique visibly relaxed. He closed his eyes and smiled a little to himself, lightly shaking his head. “No, that’s wrong. He actually does. Besides, I never once said this was random junk.” After that, he offered him a comprehensible look. “You see, we’re not making a bonfire for the sake of it. This is meant to gather us all together in the warmth of the flames while it gets rid of Boss’ leftovers of a past he wishes to forget; something he’s working _real_ hard to move on from. I can’t just disrespect his wishes like that.”

Kokichi scrutinized the sturdy box from his peripheral, giving Shuichi’s words careful thought for a few moments. When he gazed back at him, there was something ominous in way of his eyes glinted. Shuichi swore he simply wanted him to understand something crucial _._ The boy shook his head, though, messy locks of hair dancing in the air, and sharply pointed a finger at Maki.

Without even granting her an instant to react, he sternly commanded. “Move your flat, bony ass right here this instant and help out my darling with the dirty work, got it?” Shuichi was instantaneously shaken in surprise.

And Maki did get close, but only to grab him by the collar of his sweater and menacingly mutter inches away from his face. “Who do you think you are, you little punk? Giving me orders like that.”

He seemed unimpressed. “Definitely someone more important than you, that’s for sure.”

She couldn’t restrict a hostile laugh. “Are you positive about that? Cause I believe impish rats like you shouldn’t speak so high of themselves.” Maki’s lips contorted into a disgusted grimace the second Kokichi’s index finger touched them to silence her. She backed off straightaway and let go of him.

“Whatever! You’ve been slacking off all day! Is it really so hard for you to offer a helping hand to your colleague?” A teasing smile had bent onto his face. “This laziness won’t pass by Kaito’s agenda, you know?” he sang.

Shuichi decided to speak up. “Wait, hold on. I can’t let Maki help me. Or rather, I didn’t want her help to begin with.” He looked back and forth between the two and dejectedly sighed. “I already told you I need Kaito’s extra payment for doing this little favor. If I let her do part of the job, she’ll have to take half of the cash.” He suddenly jerked his head, frantically realizing the implications of his words. “Ah! But it’s not as if I’d be opposed to you getting your rightful part of the money, of course! I just meant—” Before he could finish, Maki raised a hand and shushed him.

“I know, Shuichi, calm down. I don’t mind helping you, but I know you’re in a pinch, so I’m not gonna butt in.” Maki then glowered at Kokichi. “You should get a solid grasp on the situation before judging and settling on whatever the hell you want.”

“Au contraire; I know perfectly what’s going on. I simply expected you to be a little more,” yet again, he took a quick, small gulp from his drink, “selfless, and help him out despite everything. You know, like not claiming your part of the dough.” He hummed and scooted his sight to the side. “I guess I overestimated you.”

Maki poorly repressed a bitter laugh. “Well, if you’re gonna give me lessons on selflessness, why don’t _you_ help him out instead?” Upon hearing those words, Shuichi’s eyebrows twitched in utter bewilderment.

“Can I!?” came his thrilled reply, already hopping off of his seat. “Then it’ll be my pleasure! I didn’t know I was allowed to! Had I known before, I never would’ve asked for your useless help!” He grinned cheerfully as he proudly stood by Shuichi’s side, impatiently swinging his body on his tiptoes back and forth in anticipation.

“Uh…” Shuichi brushed shyly at the hairs on the back of his neck. “I’m not… sure about this.”

“Whaaat? Why not?” he sulked and crossed his arms. “Just because I stand around giving orders all day doesn’t mean I’ll get in your way! I’m pretty useful, and you should be grateful that _I_ ’m willing to do this for you.”

Shuichi waved his hands in exasperation. “That’s not the case! I _am_ grateful. I really am.” His eyes then abandoned Kokichi’s in a modest attempt to sound rational. “But you’re a client; I can’t take advantage of you like this. And I never intended to ask for help since, again, I’m almost done anyway. And I think I don’t need to mention it but, if Boss suddenly arrives, he’s most likely gonna freak out.”

His regular took a tentative step forward, angling his head to the side in order to gaze at him better. He flashed him a small smile that anyone could have only described as free of any conceivable malice, yet his words carried a certain pitch that betrayed the sentiment. “Come now, Shuichi. The sooner you can go home and rest, the better. Plus, I’m doing this out of the goodness in my heart.”

Shuichi, though, couldn’t help but jerk his head, unquestionably flustered. In a shy, fretful smile of himself he whispered: “I know.”

Kokichi released a shallow sigh and, in a sudden action, chose to take Shuichi’s hands on his own. His blooming laugh amplified the more Shuichi showed jumpiness. “I’m just messing with you, silly! You don’t gotta take everything I say so seriously!” He gave his hands a reassuring squeeze then let go, backing off a little and avoiding Shuichi’s look by gazing at the boxes that rested beside him. He cleared his throat. “I _do_ wanna help, though. That wasn’t a lie.”

In the midst of the circumstances, Maki had taken out a phone from her abandoned backpack and, as she tapped on the screen, decided to contribute to the conversation once again. “It seems no one else is visiting any time soon, and Chief just messaged me that he’s returning in about an hour or so, that he’s stuck in the traffic jam. Maybe you should allow yourself to take advantage of this brat’s help after all.” She let the device rest in the display cabinet and stepped close to the miserable-looking bartender. “To be honest, I can’t stand seeing you stress out about every little inconvenience so often as of late. Especially considering all the extra hours you’ve done over this past week while I just… stand here, getting bored out of my mind. So hey, like the idiot said; the sooner you finish, the sooner you can go back home.”

Shuichi appeared wretched. He closed his eyes in apprehension when he noticed the way his breath hitched as soon as he attempted to speak up once more. “You know it’s my turn to close the place today, and if any more clients visit, I want to be able—” his words came to a close when Maki firmly placed her hands on his shoulders.

“Cut it out. I’m here too, stupid. I’ll handle it. I also want you to let me close today. Want to discuss a few things with Kaito afterwards and, trust me, I’ll need time. So no matter what you say, I’ll make sure he transfers you your usual revenue for the day, got it?”

He couldn’t help but shamefully gaze downwards. “Maki…”

Kokichi momentarily interjected by getting on his tiptoes and looming over Shuichi’s shoulder. “As much as it irks me to agree with the cold-blooded woman over here, she’s actually got a point. You should comply.”

“Hush. The adults are talking.” Brushing Kokichi aside, who only groaned in response, she tried again, raising her eyebrows pointedly. “Got it?”

“…Yes,” he finally submitted. He couldn’t bring himself to stop moving his fingers, though, but somehow, in the best of his efforts, he managed to properly raise his head and put on a genuine, grateful smile. “Thank you.”

She let go of his rigid frame and grinned lightheartedly. “Now get back to labor before I change my mind,” then pointed a threatening finger at Kokichi. “And you. If I catch you stealing anything, I’ll kick your ass out of here.”

“That accusation hurts my delicate heart!” he dramatically blurted out. “You need to chill, girl. I’m not some petty thief. In fact, you’re dealing with a VIP patron, yet you’re not making me feel any special.”

At that moment, his ever aloof coworker ruffled Kokichi’s hair, much to Shuichi’s incredulity. Maki had put on a defiant smile and certainly had an amused spark in her eyes. “Yeah, as if you wanted me to make you feel special at all,” she said.

“True, fair enough. Now stop messing with my hair!” He tried to get out of her reach by bending backwards, yet to no avail. “I’m trying to look charming for my gorgeous here?”

Maki simply cackled and let go, crossing her arms and leaning against the counter. “Good luck with that, ugly.” She ignored Kokichi’s attempt at mockery as he stuck out his tongue at her, and gave Shuichi a meaningful look. “I’ll be right here in case anyone visits. If you need anything, though, you know.”

“Of course. Thank you again, really. I…” he trailed off, chuckling shortly. “I sure owe you a couple of times already, huh?”

“Eh,” she simply dismissed, shrugging. “Invite me to some of that freeze-dried cake of yours one of these days and I won’t hold you accountable for the other times.”

Shuichi’s gaze softened and so he gave a little nod, laughing kindly a little more. “Sure. I can do that.”

“Cake? Wha—?” Kokichi, who was glancing back and forth between them, suddenly cried out in assured interest. “How’s it reasonable that she’s getting all the credit here? I want in!”

Shuichi offered him a bashful look. “Alright, I’ll keep that mind. But first…” he added, gesticulating towards the paraphernalia by their feet. “Shall we?”

“Mm-hm,” he agreed as he squatted down, selecting a small box at random. “I’m assuming we’re supposed to move these downstairs.”

“Yeah. Easier said than done, though.” Shuichi bent down as well and decided to delve into the contents of the box Kokichi had chosen as an example. His finger hovered over decayed dossier covers —the words on them barely legible. “This one in particular’s not the case, but… some of these are actually kinda heavy since I barely took anything out. I don’t know if you can carry them, so—”

“I told you not to underestimate me!” he whined as them both stood up. “For your information, I’m pretty strong.”

Shuichi’s eyebrow involuntarily arched at that. “Okay.”

“You totally don’t believe me, do you? Shuichi, I’m hurt.”

“No, no. If you say you so, I’m not going to claim otherwise,” he offered while he embarrassedly scratched behind his head. “Anyway. Would you mind leading the way? I’ll be right behind you but, ah, just be careful not to trip when going down the stairs. It’s dark even with the lights on.”

“It’d be cool to know where the basement is, for starters, though I’m assuming it’s…” he paused, elongating the ‘s’, to look and gesture at the —admittedly somber— fire doors to his right. “…over there.”

“It’s not as if there were many other options, but yeah, it’s that way.” Shuichi squatted down yet again and held two considerably large boxes in his arms, balancing one on top of the other. “Let’s just begin before I start feeling regretful, okay?”

“Roger that!” He made a beeline to the doors; Shuichi closely following behind. However, the latter soon came to a halt as he almost toppled over Kokichi, who had suddenly stopped in his tracks. Shuichi’s expression switched to sheer puzzlement, yet, before he could voice any complaint, the boy had raised the index finger of his free hand to his lips, a smirk now present on his face, and said: “But! Only on one condition.”

“Um…” The bartender threw a frantic look at his coworker, who was observing the ordeal with pursed lips and a contemplative, raised eyebrow. The only sign she made to indicate her shared skepticism was a vague shrug. Shuichi chose to solely focus his attention back on his regular and hesitantly question. “And that is?”

The boy’s sneer morphed into something more sincere. “You gotta let me in on what was all that about ‘not being the best example’ and ‘not being one to judge’ and all that jazz.”

Shuichi batted his eyelashes in elusive exasperation. “Do I have to?”

“No, not at all”, he happily chirped. “But that’ll mean I won’t get out of the path, so it’s your choice.”

“You’re aware that I can just easily push you out of the way, no?”

“You wouldn’t, I’m positive,” he stated with unbridled confidence.

A tired sigh escaped Shuichi. His arms started slightly giving out, so he placed the boxes on the floor once more then straightened his back. The frown that soon adorned his face had certain levels of exhaustion to it. “Why do I get the feeling you only agreed to help me out in order to get me to talk?”

The accused one gasped. “You have zero trust in my good will and that honestly offends me, Shuichi.”

“Can you at least explain why you are so determined to know about this?” he resignedly inquired, motioning his hands in the air with every word. The tone of his words, though, carried enough irritation for Kokichi to be coerced to look away.

“No reason, really”, he simply said. “Maybe you just picked my interest.”

Shuichi shook his head. “Sorry, but I find that hard to believe.”

At his retort, Kokichi chose to defiantly raise his voice. “Huh! I’m starting to think you will, indeed, push me out of the way, since you’re being so uncharacteristically heartless today!”

Shuichi then mumbled half-heartedly to himself, expecting nothing. “Perhaps you need to realize that forcing people to talk about stuff that make them feel rather uncomfortable is what’s actually ‘heartless’ here, yeah?”

Nonetheless, it didn’t go unnoticed. Kokichi lowered his gaze, and despite his poker face, Shuichi’s judgement knew best. He sighed for what it seemed the hundredth time that night and took a full second to muse the situation before him.

Kneeling down, the bartender picked up the boxes he had discarded and took a few steps forward. “Look. If you want to know so badly, I might as well tell you. I just think there really was no need for this roundabout way of getting me to open up.”

“Ah.” His regular stared at him, as if something evident was not being vocalized. “But that would’ve been boring.”

“If that’s all you’re gonna say, can you at least go back to your seat? I already accepted your terms, so there’s no need to keep up the altruist façade.”

For a split second, Shuichi could have sworn something in Kokichi came apart. The latter hastily blinked a couple of times and, with an outwardly blank expression, genuinely inquired: “What do you mean by that?”

The bartender didn’t waste another instant to get as close to Kokichi as he could and, holding the boxes on only one arm, he gently pushed him with his free hand, prompting the smaller boy to step aside. “It means, move, please? I’ll be done with the box situation in a while. Then we’ll talk as much as you want.”

“I—” the boy cut himself short. His expression had barely changed, though he couldn’t bring himself to tear his eyes away from Shuichi’s, which was enough for the bartender to realize he had stirred a reaction out of him. “You didn’t expect me to legitimately block your path if you refused to spill the beans, right?”

“I feel like I’m repeating myself but, why wouldn’t I, if you were convincing enough?”

Kokichi’s features recoiled. “You don’t know how to take a joke.”

“Wh—? Of course I do!” he pathetically spat out on the spur of the moment, the accusation compelling him to back off a little.

“Oh my god.” Kokichi’s intense laughter filled the room, greatly contrasting with the jukebox’s melody. His body shaking, he bent down, covering his face with his hand. “You _really_ don’t know how to.”

Shuichi’s cheeks flared up crimson red. “So what if I don’t?” In a poor attempt to get support, he glanced at his coworker. “Maki,” he beseeched. He didn’t miss, however, the creeping grin that had bent on her face; smile she was rapidly trying to hide by turning her back on him. “Maki?”

“What?” she simply said, shrugging a little, suddenly very interested, much to Shuichi’s understanding, in the glossy reflections on the counter’s surface.

“I can’t believe you. Why do you guys think I’m so stiff all the time?”

Kokichi, who was still cackling and poorly succeeding to tone it down, placed a hand on Shuichi’s shoulder. “Hate to break it to you, but maybe it’s cause you _are_ tense all the time.”

The bartender huffed. “What a bunch of lies.”

“I admit, honesty might not be my thing, sure. But I couldn’t be more frank right now. You’re totally the kind of guy who’d have a mid-life crisis in his twenties.”

His eyes widened in utter astonishment. “I beg your pardon?”

Maki was nodding her head while listening to the boy’s opinion and didn’t waste a second to give her own two cents on the matter. “And you haven’t even seen anything. When you’re not around, sometimes I worry he’s going to start crying in front of the clients. It’s already happened before, so...”

“No fucking way,” Kokichi disbelievingly replied, raising both hands to cover his broadened beam.

“Okay, now you both are just being mean.” The bartender crossed his arms and heaved a sigh anew, allowing his vision to travel upwards. “And that only happened once, and for a very good reason.”

“See? You’re further proving our point.” Kokichi’s laughter began softening. Abruptly, however, he gasped and clapped once, making a rush back to his seat. “Hey, I’ve got an idea. How about you pour one drink for yourself? It’s on me!”

Shuichi glared at him, lips parting gradually. “Why?”

“To loosen up a little, why else! A _Sunshine Cloud_ outta do the trick, right?”

He pondered the proposal for a couple of seconds, quietly humming to no one in particular. “Ah, what the hell,” he eventually spoke up. “Okay, sure.”

Kokichi beamed immediately. He extended an arm in invitation for Shuichi to come closer, who pointedly complied. “Hey Maki, would you mind doing the honors?” he sang.

“On it.”

“Ah, _wai-wai_ -wait,” he hurriedly spat out, flattening his palm to specify her to hold up. “A _Sunshine Cloud_ after all? I suggested it, but…”

Shuichi purely signaled an okay with his fingers for his coworker to continue. “You know I love them, so.”

Without a single trail of doubt in her expression she intentionally obeyed. While she effortlessly collected the ingredients one by one —not even sparing a glance at the recipe book, both of them noted—, Kokichi happily went along with the conversation; his tone full of contentment.

“That I do. Though I’ll never understand how you can drink that bitter crap.”

Shuichi inhibited a small chuckle. “Says the one who ordered a _Fringe Weaver_ mere moments ago.”

“Hey, it’s still got that sweet factor to it.”

“Hardly.”

“Psh. My point is still valid because you would never, _ever_ drink it, and thus, I’m the expert.”

Shuichi’s eyebrows rounded; his mouth creased in a musing pout, eyes half-lidded. The tip of his fingers gradually graced the counter’s surface as his right hand travelled across it. When it reached its destination, it grabbed a particular fancy glass that Kokichi had left behind previously due to the circumstances, and as the beverage drew near Shuichi’s parted lips, Kokichi’s features were obscuring in shock. The bartender easily guzzled down a generous amount of the liquid, licking his lips afterwards.

“I would never, what again?” he triumphantly declared, paying close attention to his regular’s agape mouth, to the way his pupils wobbled in his unblinking eyes, to the fact that he had stopped breathing altogether. The realization struck him hard. His eyelids widened, and so he made a haste to return the glass to its original location. “I’m so sorry, didn’t mean to take your drink!” The awful way his voice cracked made him shamefully wince.

Kokichi finally blinked several times, tearing apart the walls of the daze he was being held captive in. He slowly shook his head, putting on the most unreadable of expressions. “No,” he said. “I guess you were right after all.”

“I should have made one for myself instead of drinking from yours,” he appallingly admitted. “I apologize.”

“I don’t give a damn about the drink, dumbass,” his regular clarified. “I meant that you _actually_ know how to have fun.”

“Oh.” All in all, Shuichi slowed down. His eyes wandered downwards while he mindlessly touched his own hands. He just about noticed his colleague had placed the _Sunshine Cloud_ in front of him; that’s when he locked gaze with Kokichi again, holding his glass close. “I admit I have been kind of on edge as of late, but I told you so.” He gave himself a moment. “I’m still drinking this, though.”

“Then wait.” Kokichi reached for his _Fringe Weaver_ and held it in the air between them both, somewhat closer to Shuichi than to himself. “Let’s toast!”

It only took a second for Shuichi to process the call. The clinking sound the glasses made upon making contact was enough for both of their lips to bend into heartfelt smiles. “Bottoms up,” the bartender blatantly declared.

Kokichi’s drink rapidly vanished, given how little of it remained in the first place. As if on cue, almost in unison, they heaved a noise of satisfaction. Kokichi’s small, wholehearted grin never died out; he gave the impression to be deep in thought while he scrutinized his empty glass with a gleam in his eyes. Shuichi’s facial expression, on the other hand, didn’t take long to contort into a scowl of slim confusion as soon as he placed down his drink. “Maki, how much alcohol did you add?” he asked.

“Enough for you to safely drive home and not get arrested,” she simply stated.

“So, the minimum.”

Her eyebrows rose. “You sound disappointed.”

“Ah, no, it’s fine. I have booze at home anyway.”

A whistling sound abruptly caught their attention. It, of course, had come from Kokichi, who was now gawking in awe at the unfolding scene. “Oh-kay, who are you and what did you do to my beloved? You know; the guy who was almost gonna break into tears mere minutes ago?”

The bartender shyly brought his fingers to his locks, busying himself with one in an attempt to set it behind his ear. “Don’t be mean.”

“Man, had I known all I had to do to get you to light up was treating you to a drink and I would’ve done it ages ago.” Kokichi, then, beamed with such gusto that it unquestionably took Shuichi off-guard. “I _love_ seeing you like this.”

His words didn’t fail to add color to Shuichi’s incredulous visage. He, however, swiftly cleared his throat a few times and sucked in air deeply to regain his calm. “Are you tipsy, Kokichi?”

“Huh? Why would you say that!?” His reply came mixed with an odd tint of sorrow.

“Because,” he purposely paused, “you’re either unusually honest or… lying to me about something you probably shouldn’t.”

His regular groaned. “Does it matter? I’ll have you know, by the way, that I have very high alcohol tolerance, so take my words as you will.” He stuck out his tongue at Shuichi this time, though it didn’t carry any trace of actual bitterness.

“Huh.” Shuichi lifted a hand to rest on his chin. “That’s not the impression I got that one rainy Tuesday last month.”

The accused one narrowed his eyelids and pursed his lips. “Will you guys ever stop bringing that up?” he sulked.

“To be honest, probably not.”

“Agreed,” casually added Maki.

Kokichi was about to disapprove, yet the bartender interjected before he possibly could. “However,” he exclaimed, climbing out of his stool, “I’ll be fair.” He reached for those two boxes he had left behind previously and, after balancing them in one arm once again, pointed his thumb towards the opened fire doors. “How about we carry these downstairs once and for all and, in the meantime, I tell you the story you were wondering about before? You’ll be able to make as much fun of me as you want in return.”

“Hm. Tempting.” He, as well, climbed out of his seat and reunited with Shuichi. With hardly a single gap of separation between them, the boy held his own hands behind his back and stood on his tiptoes, angling his frame upwards slightly to better greet the bartender with a small mischievous smile. “But don’t I already do that as much as I please?” he innocently chirped.

Shuichi couldn’t help but raise a finger to scratch at his cheek. “…True.”

With a flourish, Kokichi spun on his heel and turned his back on the bartender. Then, he stretched both arms in a nonchalant shrug. “Well, it’s fine either way. As long as you don’t tell me out of obligation or something.”

“No, it’s actually not that big a deal. I just don’t like to remember how much of a failure I can be, that’s all.” Shuichi’s speech went lower in volume as he went on. He leaned against the doorframe and allowed his vision to get lost in the blackness within. “You definitely have the right to know, so I’m okay with it.”

His regular simply chose not to comment on the matter. With slightly unsteady arms he selected four petite boxes at random, which cued Shuichi to step aside and grant him better access to the stairway. As soon as Kokichi took the first step downwards, he made a rush to reach the switch to his left, turning the lights on. The lone, dusty lightbulb in the ceiling scarcely illuminated the path. The thin outline of each individual step was all they could rely on not to take a leap of faith.

With Shuichi closely hot on his trail, Kokichi opted to resume their conversation. “What’s this story about, anyway? You never exactly clarified.”

“It’s about how I came to be a bartender.”

“Ohh. I remember asking you stuff about it before, but you kept dropping the subject. Is it really _that_ bad?”

“Uh, kinda? It’s more like… how I regretted my reckless behavior, rather than the outcome.”

Kokichi peered over his shoulder momentarily and droned in dissatisfaction. “M’kay, I’m listening.”

Repressing the urge to bite at his bottom lip, Shuichi cleared his throat and commenced his tale. “So I happen to be a college drop-out.”

“Huh! Didn’t expect that from you.” There was legitimate astonishment in the tone of his response. “What were you majoring in?”

“Believe it or not, criminology.”

The sudden break his regular made almost managed to make them mutually topple down the flight of steps. Kokichi was gasping out loud when he turned around on the spot and gawked at the bartender with broadened eyes. “You wanted to be a detective?!” he fervently exclaimed.

“I… suppose. That’s actually yet another topic for discussion.” Shuichi hung his head in shame, to what Kokichi only tilted his a quarter to the side, mouth still agape in shock. A few seconds of quiet flew by among them. “Is something wrong?”

When Kokichi restarted going down the steps, so did the bartender. “I mean, come on! Detectives are, like, the coolest thing ever,” his regular so eloquently replied. He made it sound as an obviousness. “They take on such an unprofitable job, solely driven by their will to bring justice and catch those horrid criminals out there. Plus, I bet solving mysteries is pretty entertaining, right?”

“I can’t tell whether you’re making fun of me or not… But what I can definitely say is that it’s not nearly as appealing as they picture it in fiction.”

“Have you actually taken on the job before?”

“Yeah. Oh hey!” he cried out as soon as Kokichi had clumsily taken the final step and entered the blackness of the basement, tugging at his wrist to prevent him from collapsing. “Careful. Lemme just…” He passed him and, feeling the wall with his free hand, pressed the light switch on.

Now floodlit, Kokichi could take an impression of his surroundings. The quadrangular room itself wasn’t predominantly small; nonetheless, the amount of bottles of booze and other such items on both shelves and the ground made it appear otherwise. The dull blue of the brick walls was than akin to the bar’s interior, but there wasn’t a single glimmer of natural light due to the lack of windows, so what seemed comfortable and familiar before turned rather somber in this place.

“Okay, it’s over here, on this shelf,” Shuichi said, motioning to the lone, tall wooden one in the very back.

“I’m impressed,” Kokichi mused aloud while thoroughly inspecting every nook and cranny. “This place ain’t nearly as dusty as I thought it’d be.”

“We’ve got to keep it as clean as possible at all times. This _is_ restaurant business, after all. Sort of…” As soon as he reached his target, he crouched and placed the boxes he had been holding in the lower part of the shelf. When he stood up, he looked in his regular’s general direction and pointed a finger upwards. “Those boxes are some of the smallest, right? You can leave them in the uppermost layer.”

Kokichi’s right eyebrow arched skeptically. “Yeah, no.”

“What?”

As if trying to prove a point, the smaller stood on his tiptoes. “I can’t reach, Sherlock.”

“O-oh, right.” Shuichi’s features gained color instantly, instigating him to shake his thoughts away. Timidly, and avoiding the other’s judging gaze, he got a hold of Kokichi’s boxes. “I’ll organize them, don’t worry.”

Kokichi merely rolled his eyes. “Anywho. What was it you were saying about formerly working as a detective?”

“I started when I was young.” His expression shrunk briefly so he corrected himself. “Uh, younger. By any chance, had you ever heard the family name ‘Saihara’ before we met? Ring a bell?”

His regular pensively lifted a hand to his chin. “Hm, not particularly. Why?”

“Well, I guess it doesn’t matter…” he muttered half-heartedly, mostly to himself. “The thing is, my parents went overseas when I was a kid and, ever since, I’ve lived with my uncle. He’s a detective; works in this city’s police department, actually.”

Kokichi frowned. “Hold on. Your parents left you behind?”

“Yeah, they…” Shuichi consciously trailed off, trying to find the correct words. “It was for work; couldn’t take care of a child. In fact, they’re famous and everything, though I couldn’t care less if you ask me.” A shadow cast upon his features and his voice started conveying a kind of venom very unlike him. “Makes you wonder why the hell they decided to raise a child if they weren’t gonna take full responsibility and just throw them to whomever showed interest, but what do I know.”

“So wait, were they just anticipating your uncle or any other family member to step forward and claim you?”

“Not quite. My uncle eventually did, yeah, but had it not being for him, I presume I would’ve ended placed up for adoption.” Shuichi had finished fittingly assembling the boxes so with a click of his fingers he signaled Kokichi for them to go back upstairs. “It was because of my gratitude and this sense of, I don’t know, owning it to him? That I decided to follow in his steps. That’s what he wanted, at least. He was proud of me.”

“Huh…” Kokichi marveled. “So I take it you didn’t like the job.”

Shuichi abruptly stood immobile; a mix of confusion and annoyance creeping on his scowl. “I… can’t say for certain. I never had big dreams for myself. Even so, whether it was what I wanted or not doesn’t matter since I still started doing this out of compensation for all those years of… him being my legal guardian, rather than anything else. I never would’ve risked giving the impression of being unthankful.”

Making a disgruntled noise, Kokichi crossed his arms. “Hm. I don’t like the sound of that.”

“Well, me neither, but what other choice did I have?”

Kokichi had to blink numerous times in order to make sure he had properly processed the call. He shook his head in disbelief. “Excuse me? What the fuck does that mean? Are you trying to tell me that, just because he took it under his own interest to claim you when no one else did, you have to live your _own_ fucking life under his principles because, otherwise, you’d be an ungrateful piece of shit?” Irritatingly, he passed the bartender and finally concluded his sentiment while going up the stairs. “I’m sorry, Shuichi, but fuck that. As far as I’m concerned, you never asked for this.”

“I know!” He tried to reason, making a rush to closely follow behind. “I know, okay? It’s not so simple, though.” He gnawed on his bottom lip for a moment, rearranging his thoughts. “Look, if there’s anything that truly makes me feel miserable is when the people I care about treat me like a god damned burden or an embarrassment. Like something that was never meant to be. I couldn’t bear the thought of it; having to face those disappointed eyes, and yet… I still did. It’s the worst I’ve felt in my entire life.”

Not daring to peer over his shoulder, now yet again by the doorframe, Kokichi resolutely halted and hung his head low. In an almost imperceptible whisper he said: “That… hits awfully close to home.” Before waiting for a reaction, however, he made a beeline to the counter.

“Huh?” He slowly climbed up the last set of steps, perplexed glower plastered over his whole visage. He almost jumped in place when Maki pulled on one of the sleeves of his uniform in a futile effort to call for his attention.

“Hey, is everything cool?” she said. “I heard that brat scream ‘fuck’ like three times in a row.”

Shuichi, though, couldn’t tear his vision away from his regular, who was hunkered down, allegedly very engrossed in selecting which packages would be easier to carry. “We’re just talking,” he hypocritically guaranteed.

Not quite buying it, Maki’s lips pursed, but shook her head resignedly nevertheless. “It’ll take less than thirty minutes for Chief to arrive, by the way,” she offered. “You better hurry.”

“Got it,” Shuichi simply dismissed.

Filled with hesitance, he joined his regular. Neither of them exchanged a word. An electrical current rippled over Shuichi’s head, to which he closed his already droopy eyes and brushed backwards the locks over his forehead. When he gradually opened his eyelids, hand still lingering on his scalp, he took notice of Kokichi, who was staring at him expectantly from the staircase entryway, a sizeable amount of boxes resting on his arms. Successfully getting the message across, he, too, picked as many packages as he viably could and advanced. Slowly, they descended.

Wanting to break the awkwardness, Shuichi tentatively spoke. “After all the persistence, this might sound like nonsense, but… if you want, we can drop the subject.”

Kokichi huffed. “You’ve explained none about becoming a bartender, and seeing how you’re so fixated on living up to your family’s expectations, I’m betting it wasn’t a self-regarding decision. Don’t you _dare_ drop this topic on me now.”

A lapse of deliberation prolonged amongst them before he countered. “It’s strange.”

“What is?”

“What you just said about living up to expectations. It left me wondering if, perhaps, I’ve been the hardest on myself all along.”

“Care to elaborate?”

“For… some reason, I had set unrealistic standards on myself by thinking college shouldn’t have been nearly as hard as it ended up being,” he commenced. “Grades were never a problem before, so having to suddenly climb such a steep road carrying that heavy burden was, unsurprisingly, recipe for burnout. I internally blamed my family, thinking they made me believe I was a greater deal than I truly was. But what did they ever do to begin with, when they just… didn’t care at all? I suppose I was being a perfectionist and couldn’t handle the thought of having bad results.”

In front of the shelf once again, they mutually released the items on the floor. Shuichi took his time to separate the heavier from the lighter and so on while he gave the details.

“Anyway. Needless to say, my freshman year was a complete disaster. I don’t know how other universities work, but the one I was enrolled in had something in particular in which, no matter what you majored in, that first year you’d always have to take a lot of unrelated classes. I think that’s when I entered a state of constant paranoia. Forcing myself into criminology with mixed feelings about it was a thing, but then, having to learn, like, contemporary arts? I don’t know… I didn’t mind, but at the same time I had no interest whatsoever, so you can imagine how vexing and confusing it must have been.”

The right corner of Kokichi’s mouth squirmed. “Didn’t take you for an artsy guy, yeah."

The bartender finished the assembling process and straightened his back. They both went back up the stairs, Shuichi’s slim digits travelling to his wine red tie and absentmindedly fiddling with it in the process.

“You have no idea how much I despised that subject in particular,” he tiredly admitted. “And it wasn’t even because I hated art per se, but rather how I was forced to be incredibly creative and critical when I simply had no idea what I was doing. The professor didn’t make it any easier, either. Speaking of which, one of them was half of the reason why I got so fed up with my studies.”

Kokichi’s eyebrows rose. “ _Half_ of the reason? The fuck did they do? Sentence you to death?”

“Kind of, yeah.”

His eyebrows rose even higher. “I was joking. The hell are you saying?”

“I swear that man always had us on his radar. You can ask my friends, we were all terrified.”

“Okay, now you’re scaring me. Were Maki and Kaito there, too?”

“Where?” the aforementioned woman inquired as she took notice of her name.

“No, no. It was other friends,” Shuichi specified, waving a hand. He sealed eyes with Maki, then, trying to make sense of their conversation. “Talking about the degree, nevermind.” He cut himself short, however, the moment he discerned a woman who he recognized as one of Maki’s own regulars sitting on a stool, enjoying a drink. “Good night,” he greeted.

The patron, with a mushy smile, raised her glass in response. “Is that man a part-timer?”

Maki peered over her shoulder. “Who?” From her peripheral, she understood the woman was pointing her glass in Kokichi’s direction. “Ah, nah, he’s just a little bastard. Ignore him.”

“Love you too, Harukawa,” the accused one sardonically countered.

“Shut it.”

Ignoring her altogether, he loudly beckoned Shuichi from his location, gesticulating at the equipment on floor. “Hey, do we bring the empty ones downstairs too?”

“Yes, can you handle all of them?”

“Piece of cake,” he brightly exclaimed, making an okay sign with his digits. “Don’t leave me on a cliffhanger, though. What happened with this guy? What did he do?”

Shuichi quickly checked on his coworker. Seeing how they were lost in their own discussion, he chose to simply pick up his tale where he previously it left off.

“Don’t ask why but he just… decided that my friends and I were bad influences.” His regular erupted into a fit of laughter. “Yeah, yeah. Laugh all you want, I wish it was a joke, too.”

“Come on, humor me for a bit,” he pleaded, clearing tears out of the brink of his eyes. “Picturing you as the typical tough delinquent is so freaking hysterical.”

“Tell that to my former teacher.”

They began making their way towards the basement once more. “Why would he ever reach that crazy assumption, though?”

“My guess is because we all usually took seats in the last row. That wasn’t something I personally liked to do, but my friends did, so it was either accompanying them, or seating alone in the front, given how the rest of the class had established their own circles by that point and there usually weren’t empty chairs among them. Besides, I was shy.” The bartender frowned. “After that character he built around us, the latter, obviously, wasn’t the smartest option. We were doomed from the start.”

“Whatever does seating in the back row have to do with being a bad influence? I don’t get it.”

“I mean… That wasn’t all there is to it, but haven’t you ever heard that the kids who usually slack off in class tend to sit in the back?”

“Yeah, but as long as you were paying attention I don’t see the problem.”

“Exactly, that’s why I’m making educated guesses.”

This time around, Kokichi insisted on providing assistance in the box assembly process, seeing how the higher shelf had been already fully occupied. They both operated on autopilot as they chatted.

“You know me; I _would_ pay attention in class, even if the lesson was boring. This man, though, started spreading lies, and I’ve yet to figure out why.”

“What kind of lies?”

“Well… The kind in which, apparently, my friends and I chatted throughout the lesson and never listened to him. Those in which we also purposely refused to answer whatever question he might throw at us just to mess with the flow of things and piss him off. And, to top it all off,” the bartender resolutely came to a halt, closing his eyes in displeasure, “those in which we smoked weed in class.”

Shuichi could have sworn that the fit of laughter that ruptured out of his regular during that moment was powerful enough to alert both Maki and her client. If they did, though, they never showed signs of it.

“Shuichi, my sides,” bent down the middle, he scarcely managed to convey between sniggers as he hugged his stomach with both arms.

“Glad to see you find this all so funny.”

“Aw, gimme a break.” Kokichi took a profound lungful of air, trying his best to reclaim his self-control. “How can you expect me not to laugh at the expense of that jackass? I know it was an awful experience, but you better start seeing it as a funny, silly anecdote or it’ll keep screwing you over.”

“Maybe you do have a point, but,” he exhaled, putting an end to his labor, “if you would’ve been there perhaps you’d understand it a little better. It definitely sounds stupider when voiced; experiencing it, on the other hand… Well...”

His regular broke into a sprint towards the staircase and yelled: “Hey! Let’s go back so you can finish your drink! You need a breather.”

“Um…” He prudently and slowly followed after him.

“What?”

“I feel dumb. I’m supposed to be the host here, and yet you’re the one who’s listening to my hardships, offering me a drink to calm down, and basically undertaking half of my job.” He sheepishly raised a hand to scrape at his nape. “What in the world happened today?”

Haphazardly climbing the steps in reverse and putting on the best of his smiles, Kokichi pondered aloud: “Do I make a good bartender? It’d be nice to work together with my gorgeous every so often.”

Shuichi apprehensively ran to his side and gently placed a hand on his shoulder, instigating him to turn around. “To be frank, I think you’re way more apt for this than I am,” he sourly admitted. “For starters, I don’t have your natural charm and enthusiasm.”

Kokichi made a displeased noise. “You’re selling yourself too short. What makes you think you don’t have your own kind of charm?”

“I don’t know. People don’t visit the place because of me, that’s for sure.”

“Who’s to say they don’t? Some come to see Maki of all people.”

“Maki’s attractive.”

“And lethal.”

“…I don’t have enough life insurance to agree with that.”

Peeking through the door, Shuichi scanned his coworker’s whereabouts and exhaled a sigh of relief when he saw how she was still minding her own business with the lady. Before he could do anything further, Kokichi had firmly clutched his hand and was dragging him away to his former stool. Instead of sitting down, though, Shuichi opted to rest an elbow on the counter.

Kokichi handed him over his abandoned rounded glass. “Here.”

“Right.” With a deliberately small swallow, he dawdled on the savor of the _Sunshine Cloud_. The edges of the glass lingered on Shuichi’s lips for a while. “Wish I had something sweet to eat along with this.” As soon as those words came out of his mouth, he couldn’t miss the way in which Kokichi’s own had bent into quite the mischievous smirk. “What…?” he asked before downing some more of the liquid.

“You can always eat me.”

The bar’s ambience became a sheer mess the minute the bartender choked on his drink and started coughing frenetically. Kokichi, contrariwise, was asphyxiating on his own obnoxious and incessant cackles while he wildly clapped his hands. The loud spectacle evidently brought to the attention of the other two occupants of the room.

“Pardon me for a moment,” kindly excused Maki, bringing herself close to the dying boy. She held him in place and patted his back a couple of times. “Breathe in. Don’t panic.”

Shuichi’s coughs grew significantly lower in volume the more he allowed his lungs to deeply take in air. After struggling for a bit, he managed to put himself together and straighten up, though the rose tint his cheeks had acquired was still very present and not showing any signs of leaving any time soon. “Th-thank you…” he embarrassedly murmured.

“Oh my god.” Kokichi was thriving, tears of joy running down his expression as he personally fought to muster intelligible sentences between wheezing giggles. “That was priceless.”

Maki cruelly glared at him and pointed a threatening thumb in the main entrance’s direction. “Strike three and you’re out, punk. Your call.”

“Y-you...” Wiping the water out of his eyes, the boy was finally managing to calm down. He merrily heaved a sigh and said: “Phew, you have a client.”

In the most irritated, mocking tone plausible, Maki removed herself and imitated Kokichi’s voice: “You have a client.”

At some point, the bartender had hidden his heated face from view with his left hand. Kokichi smoothly entangled his with it and let them linger in the air. “Shuichi, are you dead?” he inoffensively questioned.

“Yeah…”

“Damn. Guess that worked like a charm.” He heartily chuckled. “I’m flattered.”

A full second passed for Shuichi to disconnect their joined hands and decide to go back to work. “No more drinking for either of us tonight,” he informed.

Kokichi’s lips puckered into a pout. “Aww, killjoy.”

“What were we even talking about?”

“Ah, you know. About you being a bad influence.”

“Oh, yeah...” Shuichi brushed a lock of hair under his ear, allowing his sight to get lost nowhere in particular. “I could go on and on about that guy but… I’d digress too much.”

With a single box under his arm and two balanced in his other, he tilted his head in a beckoning motion for Kokichi —who had personally picked a pair of medium sized ones— to come along with him. Down the dim lit stairway, he started on.

“Let’s just say, since this guy had such a warped notion of us, we could never pass one of his exams, no matter how well we did. He even refused to go over our written assignments.”

“Woah, isn’t that reportable? Shouldn’t another professor have reviewed your work after a bunch of failed attempts?”

“I’ve got the foggiest idea. We never got that chance, so who knows.”

“Man, that sucks.”

“You tell me. If I didn’t have to pay every single quadrimester I failed, maybe I wouldn’t have cared.”

“What do you mean?”

“I never got a scholarship since my grades plummeted so drastically. My uncle was the one paying my student loans at the time.”

“Oh… That must have been a lot.”

“It _is_. It haunts me to this day.” By this point of their discussion, they were once again next to each other, lumping together their respective packages. “As you can see, my original dilemma summed up to my overall dislike of the unrelated classes, how hard everything was in general, and then that specific issue with that professor… It all had me on the edge of the cliff. ‘Anxious’ was my everyday mood.”

“How’s that any different from today?” He yelped when he got playfully elbowed for that remark. “I’m joking, I’m joking.”

“ _More_ tense,” Shuichi accentuated. “I found myself going to the lessons for the sole purpose of seeing my friends.”

Kokichi anticipated that they’d be going back upstairs as soon as they finished but was surprised when the bartender chose to support himself against the wall instead, head hanging low. He tentatively echoed his action, standing to his left and playing with his hands in the meantime.

“So at the end I crumbled under the pressure,” he went on. “I couldn’t get a grip on myself. My health started taking a toll, too; that was around the time when my uncle figured out what was going on.” His eyes flicked at his regular for a moment and his lips twisted into a poignant smile. “He was mad. Told me I couldn’t afford to continue being inadequate or he’d stop supporting me altogether. That he wasn’t made of gold, unlike my parents.” The fingers of his left hand mindlessly roamed back and forth over the crevices on the wall behind him. “They heard about this too. That was the first time I listened to my father’s voice ever since they left; during a very sour phone call. Never my mother’s, though. I imagine they assumed, just because they conceived me they were on their right to lecture me about what I was doing with my life, despite everything. Too bad I was fed up enough not to give a damn. But, um… Their words somehow still managed to sting like hell.”

“Obviously.” Even though he was carefully listening, Kokichi couldn’t retain that observation. “You’re not a heartless machine.”

“Yeah… Wish I was, sometimes.” His sentence sounded hoarse. “At any rate, I tried my best to pass all my classes and get some extra credits up until halfway through my sophomore year, but… I kept failing. And around that time, one day, my uncle caught me having a panic attack. Needless to say, he wasn’t very considerate. When that point was reached, I… simply gave up.”

“Huh.” Kokichi held his head high, narrowing his eyelids to absentmindedly contemplate the hanging lights. “Can’t blame you.”

An acrimonious chortle escaped Shuichi’s lips. “Now that’s a funny thing to say, cause my uncle _certainly_ did. A lot. And I… agree. I think my pretentiousness was a major part of the problem and, perhaps, if I worked a little harder I could have made it. I had no excuse.”

Kokichi’s head jerked the minute he heard him mutter those words. An irritated scowl was now present on his facial features. He stared Shuichi hard in the eye. “No. Stop lying to yourself,” he starkly demanded.

“Huh…?” Shuichi’s frame tensed.

Still with brusqueness, Kokichi pressed onwards. “Answer me this. Were you happy?”

The bartender’s mouth repeatedly opened and closed. Their piercing stares kept stuck on each other’s, yet Shuichi ultimately couldn’t bring himself to endure it. “Of course not,” came the blunt reply after a long, palpable silence.

“Good, you admit it.” With that, Kokichi allowed his stare to soften. He never cast it aside, however, and he didn’t go on until he was sure the bartender would look at him again. “You had no obligation to follow in your uncle’s steps; that was your first mistake. What you were actually searching for was validation, and the only ones to blame for that are your negligent parents.” He began waving his hands in the air with each word, as if trying to further prove a point. “And your uncle doesn’t fall far behind. No one should choose for you what to do with your own life. I know you enough to be able to tell that you’re more than capable of getting a degree; problem was, you took the wrong path and demanded way too much out of yourself. Don’t you realize you were suffocating? So it’s not that farfetched that the heaviness of it all it’s managing to tear you apart.”

In absolute helplessness, Shuichi wasn’t capable of looking anywhere but him. There wasn’t a particular expression painted across his face, yet his mouth kept being agape ever so slightly. It was now Kokichi’s turn to hang his head in shame.

“Quit staring at me like that,” he protested.

“M-my apologies, it’s just…” The bartender lifted a hand to dig it deep into his hair. “That was so straightforward and so coherent that it caught me off guard.”

“Eh!?” Feigning aggravation, the small boy balled his hands into fists on each side of his body. “Does that mean you think I’m not to be taken seriously or what?!”

“No! By any means, no.” He hastily waved his free hand hands in distress. “What I meant is that your words felt like a slap in the face. Deep down I know the truth, yet I’m constantly afraid of admitting it.” Finally separating himself from the wall, he closed a bit the gap between them both. “I have told this story to a few of my closest friends, including Maki. Kaito didn’t need a rundown of the details since he… kind of saw me going through it. Whatever the case, they all told me something similar to what you just said. The major difference was that the other’s words carried more solace and pity, while Maki simply let her prudence and cynicism speak for herself.” He then lowered the hand from his scalp to closely watch the gentle movements his digits made. “It’s… nice hearing an opinion that doesn’t patronize me, neither make me feel like I was one hundred percent at fault.”

“Psh. Would I ever do that?” the boy rhetorically quizzed, a satisfied smirk on his face.

Shuichi shook his head. “Kokichi, I—” he deliberately trailed off, only to raise his skull and flash his regular with the type of toothy smile which the latter, under no circumstances, would of imagined seeing on someone like him. “I’m really glad I met you.”

Spinning on his heel, showing his back, the boy cackled. “Hoo boy! Is that the cheesiest line that came to mind?”

It was now Shuichi’s turn to dejectedly pout. “S-shut up, I’m trying to have a heart-to-heart here.”

“You should know by now that I’m the one and only with the cheesiest remarks. You won’t beat me at this game!”

The bartender musingly hummed. “That is… true, actually. Fair enough.”

Kokichi turned around again, presenting superficial evidence that he was at the verge of —crocodile— tears. “Aw, you don’t wanna personally find out?”

“Perhaps another time. Besides,” he shyly brought a finger to his chin, “you’ve been awfully flirty today.”

The accused one gasped theatrically. “You make it sound as if it were a bad thing. You’re pretty much asking to be insulted now.”

Shuichi shut his eyelids resignedly. “P-please, no.”

“Diminishing my appreciation like that, the nerve!” Kokichi lifted a hand to cover his mouth in an attempt to pretend genuine disbelief. The purpose, however, was to accurately muffle his next statement. “But I’m really glad I met you, too…”

Shuichi was about to extend an arm to reach him but Kokichi, speedier, put a finger on his lips, shushing him before he could speak or do anything at all. He radiantly beamed at him as if not a single thing had transpired.

“Tell me what happened afterwards! How did it all end?”

“Uh, um…” Shuichi forced himself to shake his thoughts away. “Okay. I don’t wanna take forever, so…” He signaled his regular to go back up, who pointedly obeyed, though they both opted to take their time and walk each step leisurelier. “I dropped out of college and my uncle warned me that he wasn’t going to pay for my student loans any longer or sustain me after a year had passed. That I needed to be hired somewhere because I wasn’t going to live under his roof not lifting a finger. It wasn’t until five dreadful months that my savior came storming through our door. And of course, it was none other than Kaito.”

“Dammit.” Kokichi elevated a hand to bite at his thumb’s nail. “I can’t believe I have to thank that cretin.”

The bartender exhaled a gratified breath and chuckled shortly. “I remember it like it was yesterday. I was lying in bed trying to catch some much needed sleep and he… goes and opens the shutters and starts yelling about how he had set up a business, and how me and this other, and I quote, ‘stray’, were going to ‘kick some ass’…”

“Oh, man.”

“Before I realized it, I was taking the formal BTC instruction. That’s when I was introduced to Maki. Kaito said that bartending could be a temporary thing for me. That it’d be cool, too, since I’d be working among friends.” Two steps before reaching the top he stopped in his tracks and crossed his arms. “At first, my intentions were gathering enough money to rent an apartment then quit, but after I moved out of my uncle’s place, I found myself settling for a new goal, which was… eventually resuming my studies. Though, that’s obviously not about to happen any time soon.”

Kokichi, who was a step ahead, gazed downwards. “Out of curiosity, how long ago was this, exactly?”

“In two weeks’ time it’ll be my fourth year of employment,” he proudly stated. “Back when we had legal age to drink, Kaito wanted to celebrate by bringing me to a tavern and have our first beer together. Turns out, the woman who served us was incredibly eloquent and charismatic. She talked about the different ways beer was brewed, gave random trivia about cocktails, blabbered about her own life… It all seemed so fascinating back then that we ended up joking about how we would take up bartending after we retired.” He then snickered shortly, mostly to himself. “I suppose we might’ve been tipsy, but… How ironic things can be, huh?”

“Well, I’d say you’re happy.”

Right before Shuichi was able to answer, though, a loud, manly voice stretched across the extent of the club.

“The hell is _he_ doing here?!”

It appeared as if Kaito’s strong presence had risen up the temperature of what a chilly yet comforting atmosphere had initially been. He was standing straight right next to Maki, pointing a shaky finger at Kokichi; his other hand indignantly perched on his waist. His facial expression went over many different stages of disbelief, stupefaction and, ultimately, anger. It wasn’t noticeable at first glance, but thanks to Shuichi’s proximity he could discern that Kokichi’s demeanor had significantly transformed. His body became rigid, as if ready to attack at any given time. The bartender took the final footstep and stood beside Kokichi, resting a reassuring hand on his stiff shoulder.

“Boss, what’s going on?” he questioned, bewildered frown on his face.

“What’s going on?!” the man indignantly snarled. He looked back and forth between him and his coworker with clear incredulity and soon pointed the same accusatory finger in the direction of the TV on the top corner. “What have you been doing all day? You had the news on and you hadn’t been paying attention?”

Maki sighed loudly and hid her face from view, crossing her arms and evasively rotating her body to the side. Shuichi stepped forward, making a little hesitant shrug.

“What happened?” he asked again.

His manager tightened a fist and pierced his annoyed glare to a spot behind him that Shuichi could only deduce was his dead-silent regular. He huffed in clear annoyance.

“This bastard is on the run and you’ve been playing along with his damn lies! Why do you think there were almost no clients today?”

Shuichi’s mind stopped working altogether. He froze on the spot. “On the run…?” he mumbled.

“And what do I see when I finally arrive? The brat in question sticking his nose into our affairs, most likely to take advantage of you and steal something in the process!” The man shook his head, eyes closing in frustration. “Dammit, Shuichi! I thought you were smarter than that!” He then regarded Maki, coercing her to look his way as well. “How did you allow this too?!”

Maki bitterly bit her lip. None of them said anything. The bartender eventually peered over his shoulder with a concerned glower that demanded answers; nevertheless, he didn’t find what he was searching for. Instead, there was nothing. Only the empty opening of the tough, taciturn fire doors. His regular had slowly but surely made his way through the wall to round the corner whenever his manager wasn’t paying attention, avoiding proximity with him at all costs. He perceived his right hand was roaming through the insides of his pants’ pocket while he cautiously extended the other in order to reach the stool he had formerly taken a seat on.

Kaito brusquely turned around and yelled: “I knew you weren’t to be trusted! And don’t even think about trying anything funny!”

Kokichi straightened his posture and shrugged with extended arms. “I see the ever endearing Kaito still has a stick up his ass, as per usual.”

“Say that again!” The man gritted his teeth.

He was about to charge at the boy, but Shuichi hurried in front of him, flattening his palms, forcing him to come to a halt. “Please, Boss, hold on!” he persuasively pleaded. “I’ve been with him all night and he hasn’t done anything wrong. In fact, he’s been of incredible help. Let’s not get violent, shall we?”

Kokichi utilized this unforeseen assistance as the perfect opportunity to make a move. He snatched the abandoned newspaper from his seat and, equally as fast, left a bunch of coins on top of the counter. He made a saluting gesture with his fingers, bidding farewell.

“Welp! Gotta go!” he sang. “Thanks for the drinks!” In the fraction of a second, Shuichi could barely process that he was making a run for the exit, ducking under Kaito to successfully avoid getting trapped by his fast reflexes and disappearing into the darkness of the alley. The clamor of crashing glass bottles piercingly resonated in their ears.

“Kokichi!” he found himself shouting.

“Go!” Shuichi had to do a double-take to realize that that command had, indeed, arisen out of his coworker, directly addressing him. She was firmly grasping the wrist of a very befuddled Kaito. “What are you waiting for?! Go after him!”

“R-right…!” Shuichi urgently seized his coat from the hanger.

“Are you two out of your mind?!” their manager stridently inquired, batting his wary narrowed eyes numerous times.

The bartender could only cringe in remorse upon hearing his boss’ suffocated words. Draping the clothing over his shoulders, he spared a quick apologetic glance at his friends and howled a high pitched “sorry!” before breaking into a sprint after his target.

“Hang on—” Kaito’s call ended all too soon when Maki placed her hands on each side of his face and forced him to lock gaze with hers.

“We need to talk. _Now_ ,” she determinedly instructed.

That was the last thing the bartender could make out before the bar’s soft illumination vanished out of his peripheral.

“Kokichi!” he screamed again, louder, never getting a response.

His puffs of breath were ragged and inconsistent. Since he had been crouching down all day, his legs stung as if dozens of needles were piercing into his skin given how fast he was forcing them to move. The length of the stony, somber, steam-scented street where their bar was located elongated until it opened into a more distinct, busy road jam-packed with brightly colored signs advertising all kinds of products, the ruckus of other open clubs as people laughed, and singed, and cried, and the myriad of individuals coming and going, minding their own business. Squinting, Shuichi could appreciate his target’s silhouette in the blurred distance, going south, dodging those that stood on his path as he dashed as far as he could. The bartender could hardly keep up the pace as he accidentally bumped against somebody every now and again, having to drop a bunch of apologies. To a certain degree, he internally showed gratitude to the nighttime’s icy wind since it prevented exasperating beads of sweat from forming on his temples. The more he panicked, though, the more fatigue got to him.

His migraine was threatening to catch up with him the moment Kokichi disappeared after rounding the corner. With gritted teeth, he was ready to curse aloud. Yet, his racing heart found a peaceful rhytym when he noted how the boy had, much to his incomprehension, simply stopped in his tracks. The red of the traffic lights created shadows on Kokichi’s visage that intensified the pained expression he wore. It sent shivers down Shuichi’s spine. He slowed down his footsteps, trying his best to even his breathing. He observed the way Kokichi acidly scrutinized the row of parked taxis in front of him, the way he clenched and unclenched his fists, the way his chest swiftly rose up and down due to his own exhaustion.

Shuichi walked up to him as cautiously as he could. “Kokichi…” he said again, quieter, worry present in his tone.

“I’m not going back,” the other sternly stated, not yet daring to look in the bartender’s direction.

“I’m not here to bring you back. That’s not why I ran after you.”

“Then why?” he sardonically questioned. The husky tremor laced in his every word betrayed the intentions of the smirk he had drawn on his lips. “Is it to call me out for being a delinquent? To turn me in to the authorities?”

“Of course not!” Shuichi snapped. He abridged the gap between them, bowing his head a little. “You scared the heck out of me.”

Kokichi ironically blew air out of his nose. “What, was the revelation too much for you?”

A worn-out sigh overcame him. “I’ve known for a while you weren’t a journalist and, honestly, I don’t give a damn.”

This caught him off guard, eliciting a reaction. He abruptly jerked his head to finally stare Shuichi in the eye. The pretentious grin had gone extinct. “…You what?”

“What were you planning to do? You don’t have enough for a cab, I noticed you left behind all the cash you had.”

Kokichi hung his head in defeat and dejectedly whispered: “What do you want from me?”

“I’m sorry,” he wretchedly offered. “I just want to talk for a bit longer if that’s okay with you. But not like this, neither in the middle of the street.” Shuichi bashfully joined Kokichi’s free hand with his own, giving it a reassuring squeeze in the process. “I was hoping to at least give you a ride home as thanks for all the trouble.”

“Home?” He upstretched his head again and began speaking in an unsettling monotone. “There’s nowhere for me to go anymore.” He paused, a twinkle that the bartender found familiar passing through his weary eyes. “Not at the moment, anyway.”

“Then, would you like coming to my place? We could, I don’t know, have some tea. Of course, I don’t want to force you, but… If you say you have nowhere to go, there’s no way I can leave you alone, especially knowing you might get in danger out there. Besides, it’s almost two in the morning. It’s freezing.”

Kokichi’s eyebrows arched, showing legitimate infuriation. His mouth had contorted into a disgusted grimace, too. The journal on his hand wrinkled and rustled as he gripped it tight, knuckles turning white and, with it, he weakly started punching the bartender’s frame.

“You make no sense at all! You’re such a credulous idiot! A god damned freak!” Resigned, he gave up on his childlike movements and buried his face deep on Shuichi’s chest. “How in the fuck can you trust me so easily?”

All he could do was shrug a little. “Actions speak louder than words, right? The Kokichi I’ve come to know over the course of these months might not be the most open in regards to his actual feelings, but his actions don’t suggest he’s the kind of person I’d call cruel or untrustworthy.” Shuichi raised his free hand and gently rested it atop Kokichi’s disordered hair. “What I don’t get is why you are so determined to push me away at times like these. I know you have your reasons, just like I had mine, and that’s okay! But… is it so hard to believe that I want to understand you? That I want to know you better?”

A meditative quietness stretched among them. In about a minute, Kokichi hummed and tentatively detached himself from the bartender’s torso. Shuichi’s eyes widened when he realized that he had put on one of the signature smiles he liked so much.

“Look at you. Talking like a real detective. Maybe your uncle had a hunch about you, after all.” Before sparing Shuichi a single second to do or say anything at all he clung onto the arm with which they were holding hands. “Okay, dear Saihara, you win this round.”

Shuichi broke out of his stupor by briskly batting his eyelashes. “Does… that mean you’ll come along?” His shoulders released a weight he didn’t know he was holding.

“Just so you know, the tea’s what persuaded me! Absolutely nothing else.” His so eloquent regular feigned boredom, elusively angling his head. “I won’t be so easy next time, though.”

Shuichi couldn’t contain an overjoyed chuckle, a melodious sound that Kokichi seemed to treasure. He sported the same kind of expression from whenever he watched the bartender mix one of his cocktails; that twinkle of adoration, the widened, heartfelt smile.

Shuichi dug his free hand into one of the pockets of his coat and took out a set of car keys. They scanned each other one last time.

“Shall we?”

 

 

The drive home was, on the whole, uneventful. Partially, and among other things, Shuichi had accepted to start renting the apartment the BTC had offered him because of how close it was to his workplace; surely, it was a less than ten minutes ride. Either way, breaking the comfortable silence they had fallen into was something they mutually, wordlessly, agreed not to do. Luck was also on their side when they considered they never got trouble with the traffic jam Kaito originally had to deal with. The more the hours of the night went by, the less chaotic it had become.

Shuichi’s apartment wasn’t too shabby, regarded as such by Kokichi’s judgement. Entrance, kitchen area and living space all joined into one rectangular room, each wall shaded a pallid indigo. The apartment itself was rather humble, but what gave the opposing impression and called attention the most was the large, ceiling-tall window in the very back, showing quite the eccentric view of the city’s suburban area. The lighting that filtered inside was not so different from the bar’s very own; a mix of smoky cyans and pinks, and the radiance of the hoary moon, standing tall in the starless sky. Thin blinds substituted curtains. The lack of furniture was notable, too; the ones that stood out the most were a single wooden tea table in the middle of the room accompanied by a collection of cushions and a similar looking forlorn shelf, filled to the brim with all kinds of books. That, and an assortment of potted plants here and there. As satirical as it seemed, the kitchen’s separation to the rest of the apartment consisted of Shuichi’s personal counter and set of stools. To the left, there were only two doors; one that lead to Shuichi’s dormitory and one that lead to the bathroom. The tick of a clock vaguely drowned the place.

A shrieking noise and a blast of boiling steam informed that the teapot they had left on the stovetop was ready. Barefooted, Shuichi came out of his bedroom wearing casual, comfy clothes and, as he stretched, he made his way to the kitchenette to turn off the fire. Kokichi was hugging his legs sitting on one of the pillows on the floor, absorbedly looking out the window. He straightened his pose, however, when Shuichi kneeled next to him and carefully handed him a mug and a spoon. He was holding one for himself on the other hand.

“It’s boiling hot,” Shuichi warned, sitting down beside him cross-legged.

“I figured,” the other casually replied and nodded, a silent confirmation. Peeping sideways, he surveyed Shuichi all over.

“What is it?”

Kokichi shrugged. “I just realized it’s the first time I see you wearing something other than your uniform.”

“Are you… disappointed?”

He shrugged for the second time. “You’re handsome either way.” Feeling Shuichi’s suspicious eyes on him, he asked: “What?”

“So you were tipsy after all.” A cushion was violently thrown at his face.

“Am not! Leave me alone!”

The bartender embarrassedly laughed. “Careful there. You don’t wanna spill boiling water all over me, now do you?”

“Psh. Maybe I do. Dumbass complains about not being able to have a heart-to-heart but he’s the worst of all.”

“Hey, it’s not my fault to assume so when you usually tease me with these kind of things, anyway.”

Kokichi pursed his lips, busying himself stirring the liquid on his cup. “Believe whatever you want, see if I care.”

Shuichi mimicked his actions, vaguely staring into the distance. “Thank you, though,” he announced. “I’m kind of self-conscious so it’s always nice to hear stuff like that.”

The other simply hummed. “I see.”

A plane glided far above them; the tremor of the turbines masking the silence that had once again reigned among them. Shuichi tentatively took a nip of his tea and immediately set it aside, expression scrunching up the second it burned his tongue. He placed the cup behind him, atop the tea table, and let his hands loosely rest on his legs, fingers unable to cease moving. When the blaring noise had significantly died down, he voiced the question that had been on his mind.

“Why did you visit the bar today?”

“I dunno. Why do people go to bars, huh?”

A dejected sigh escaped him. “I’m serious…”

“Well. Maybe I was hiding, running away. Maybe I wanted a final _Moonblast_ before it all went to shit. Maybe I just wanted to see you.”

“What did you think was gonna happen?”

Kokichi bent his knees closer together again. “I wasn’t expecting anything. I acted pretty much on gut instinct. When the world closes up on you more and more each time, you run away and seek refuge in the only place where you know no one assesses you. Even if Miss Cranky Pants and that goatee bastard hate my guts, at least they cut me enough slack for me to feel safe in there.”

“Did you know Maki before you and I met?”

“Mm-hm. Guess you could say we have quite the history together. Hasn’t she already told you this much, though?”

Shuichi’s head swung in denial. “No, never.”

Kokichi frowned in incredulity, looking crossways at him. “How did you even know I wasn’t a columnist if she _truly_ never spilled the beans?”

“I sort of figured it out on my own over time. There was always something that didn’t add up.”

“How long have you known?”

“If I recall correctly…” he dawdled, hand on his chin. “Ever since two weeks had passed after you stopped by for the first time.”

The other’s mouth gaped in awe. “ _That_ long? Then how is it that neither you nor Maki ever called me out? Were you making fun of me?”

“No! I mean… I can’t speak for her, but I personally didn’t mind. I meet all kinds of interesting people on a daily basis and they all come to me with their stories. Whether they’re lies or not, what the clientele usually searches for is someone to vent their frustrations and feel comfortable around. As long as they feel better about themselves, they don’t really care who’s listening. Not to mention, you know that Maki and I tend to make very clear that we’re not information gatherers. We’re just doing our job; mixing and serving drinks.” He gave Kokichi an empathetic look. “I imagined yours was kind of a similar prospect.”

The boy took a quick glance at the newspaper he had been gifted that lied in front of his feet. “Why did you bring up the topic again today?”

“I guess I wanted to see if I could get you to be frank with me.”

Kokichi’s head bowed. “Can you blame me for not doing it, though? No one gives a shit unless you’re the hot thing.”

“That’s definitely not the case for me but I can understand your line of reasoning.” The bartender bowed his head as well. “May I ask… why pretend to be a journalist, of all things? A chief editor, specifically.”

Kokichi blew air out of his nose, smiling bitterly. “Spite.”

Shuichi perused him with a confused glare. “I beg your pardon?”

A finger was raised in the air, moving in circles. “Let’s say, hypothetically speaking, that a fucking prick ruins your life. Let’s also say, still in theory, that this prick turns out to be, basically, the most influential reporter nationwide. I dunno about you but, in my opinion, revenge is the most viable option in this case, even if said retribution is as harmless as it gets.”

“Wait, ruin your life…? What did they do?”

He lifted an eyebrow, skeptically. “Why do you think I’m known as a criminal?”

The shadow under Shuichi’s eyes turned several shades paler. “Huh? Does that mean all this time you’ve being accused of false charges?”

“For the most part, yes. I mean —sure, I might have stolen food in the past, or tampered with cultural heritage, or… doodled on Maki’s apartment complex’s back access…”

“Ohh,” Shuichi exclaimed. “So that’s what that was.”

“But that’s as bad as it gets,” the other concluded.

“Couldn’t you clear your name, then?”

Kokichi sipped his tea for a bit. “Nah, that’s impossible. Especially when my whole… family is involved, too.” His pause had been intentional, carrying a sour tone afterwards.

“Family, you say… Is that why you told me you had nowhere to go anymore?”

“Yeah. The public and law enforcements were led to believe that we were associated with the organized crime and have actually committed awful atrocities and shit. We were partially at fault, though, since we used to lie about it all being real, that they should fear us, but things obviously got out of hand.”

“Why would you play along to begin with?”

Kokichi indifferently shrugged. “It seemed fun. I mean, we were outcasts anyway, so if the world wanted to hate us, we thought we might as well enjoy it.”

Shuichi reached for the cup behind him and pensively ogled it for a second. “Outcasts... When you say ‘family’ I assume you don’t mean a conventional one, correct?”

“If you’re talking about a mom and a dad, then yeah, but that doesn’t make mine less valid.”

“I never implied so, don’t get me wrong.” He finally swallowed some tea, reeling in the honeyed taste for a little. “I simply wanted to understand the nature of it.”

A gloomy darkness was cast upon Kokichi’s features. “We started off being a bunch of tragic cases that united forces because we didn’t have a choice, because it was better than the alternative, and as luck would have it, we ultimately ended up calling ourselves a ‘family’ and sticking together because we grew to love each other.”

The bartender stretched his legs and repositioned himself more comfortably, supporting his weight setting his elbow atop the table. “That actually sounds kinda nice.”

Kokichi noncommittally shrugged again and placed his mug on the ground after taking a long gulp. “I was happy.”

“You keep using the past tense. What happened to them?”

He hid his face in his knees, angling his skull to avoid the other’s gaze. “Some of them felt forced to leave the city; others were outraged and blamed each one of us. In the end, we disbanded. Staying together was enough of a risk, so even if things were heated among us, we concluded that the priority should be keeping everyone as safe as possible.”

Shuichi felt compelled to slowly place his mug on the floor as well. “That’s awful…” he miserably manifested. “But what about your actual parents?”

Kokichi fell dead silent for a long while. When he tilted his head, Shuichi’s skin got goosebumps, feeling that the room had, someway, fallen several degrees of temperature lower. “You’re treading on very thin ice right there,” he eventually said in a dry manner.

The bartender shamefully hugged himself. “M-my apologies,” he muttered. “Forget about it. So, were you planning on departing as well?”

“Departing…” A couple of seconds of close consideration flew by. “That’s a strange thing to say when I’ve never belonged anywhere. I’m always on the run.” Shuichi was about to speak up but the movement of Kokichi’s head and the angry scowl on his eyebrows prompted him otherwise. “But I guess you could say I was gonna do so, though not before making sure this cretin got comeuppance for all the shit he put us all through.”

“What were you gonna do?”

“You mean, what have I been doing. Which is exactly the answer to your question.”

“So… pretending to be a journalist, right?”

“Pretending to be _him_ ,” he emphasized. “And making sure he had the worst possible reputation.”

“But you use your real name despite everything, no?”

“Only on you guys’ place, since the cold-blooded woman and I were already acquainted with each other. I was willing to test how long it would take for her to call me out on my elaborate lie, but using a fake name around her would’ve been worthless since she probably would’ve blown my cover straightaway. Plus, your bar is reclusive enough to be mostly a place for other outcasts such as myself, anyway, so…”

“Can’t argue with that…” Shuichi idly brushed a hand through his smooth hair. “Then again, that means you had even less of a reason to keep up that cover around us. You knew we wouldn’t look down on you, so why would you still do it?”

A sour smile returned to Kokichi’s lips. “Haven’t you ever wanted to live someone else’s life? It’s kinda cool pretending I don’t have a shitty past for a few hours.”

The bartender slid his legs through the floor to close the distance between the two, placing a calming hand on the other’s shoulder. “If things were out of your control you shouldn’t let those occurrences wear you down or define who you are. Didn’t you tell me earlier that I shouldn’t have stepped on my uncle’s shoes? I don’t know if playing the person you hate with all your heart is what truly brings you joy here and…” He inhaled profoundly, long lashes gently brushing his cheeks as he closed his eyes. “I wouldn’t want you to change who are. Especially if it means you’ll be miserable in the long run.”

Something pivotal changed in Kokichi’s expression, seeming incredibly fatigued all of a sudden. He drowsily rested his head in the crook of Shuichi’s neck, wild locks of hair nuzzling his skin, and lazily wrapped his arms around his middle. It all made Shuichi jump a little, but he returned the hug nonetheless. In a worn-out mutter, the boy said: “I can’t remember the last time someone told me something like that.”

His regular’s words shattered something within Shuichi. He felt his fingers move on their own accord in a timid attempt to caress the other’s back. Instead of trying to offer empty words of consolation, he pressed his need to get an answer for the question that burned his insides the most.

“What’s… going to be of you? What are you gonna do, now that they’re looking for you?”

He heard a faint, sardonic snicker meekly escape him. “Didn’t I tell you? I’m permanently on the run.”

“You’re not running away from me, though.”

“Are you trying to tell me I should?”

“I’m trying to tell you than I want you to stay.”

Shuichi felt his shirt wrinkle and tighten; Kokichi had clutched it with both fists strongly. “Stay where?” His voice had ominously elevated a few decibels.

“Stay with me,” he countered back.

Kokichi forced himself to firmly shut his eyes. His breathing had begun to accelerate. A mantra run through his head, begging him to stay collected. “I can’t stay… I don’t— I can’t do that,” he struggled to muster.

“Why not?”

“I can’t.”

“…You don’t want to.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Then give me a reason.”

Kokichi loosened his embrace enough to be able to sourly stare the bartender in the eye. “How can you not understand something as simple as the fact that staying in this city isn’t viable? You yourself said I’d be in danger out there in the streets. Or what were you planning to do? Lock me away forever?”

Shuichi’s head gave a subtle swing as he smiled a little. “I never once said to stay in this city. I said to stay with _me_.”

“How’s that any different?”

He cast his vision afar on purpose. “Well, I’m moving out.”

Kokichi backed off even more. “Come again…?” gradually came out of his mouth. “Where did this come from?”

A bent digit was sheepishly lifted to repose on one of the corners of Shuichi’s mouth. “I didn’t have the chance to tell you earlier since Boss arrived and interrupted us, but the reason I’ve been in a pinch is because all my savings are going straight to affording a new apartment, far away from here.” His pupils then quickly travelled across the room in an elusive manner. “Um, that and the fact that rent is due on the 30th…”

The other had an incredulous expression painted across his face. “I— I thought you loved bartending?”

“And I do. That’s exactly why I’m doing it,” he said, matter-of-factly. “This wasn’t supposed to be public word yet, but we’re leaving the bar on someone else’s hands, as soon as we get the notice. Kaito and Maki were going to start functioning somewhere else; on a pub near the coast. When they asked me if I wanted tag along I, naturally, said yes.”

Two seconds passed. Kokichi slowly rested his body on the bartender’s again. “The coast, huh?” he mused aloud. “That’s miles away. How awfully convenient.”

“I know, right?” Feeling calmer overall, Shuichi propped his chin on top of the other’s head and sluggishly held him close. “You haven’t yet given me an answer. Would you be willing to come with me?”

“I don’t get it. Why are you so determined to take me with you?”

“That’s not an answer.”

“You answer me first.”

“Kokichi, come on. Look at us.” He freed one of his arms and protracted it in a waving gesture, motioning towards their figures. “I should think it’s obvious... Are you really going to make me say it? I thought I was supposed to be the oblivious one.”

The boy dug his nails deep into Shuichi’s clothes. “I mean, admitting the truth can be scary sometimes, yeah?”

“Ah.” Their conversation in the basement fleetingly crossed over the bartender’s mind. “Okay, that’s fair. I’d be quite the hypocrite if I argued against that.” Shuichi raised a hand to gently brush the back of Kokichi’s hair. “I won’t press for an immediate answer, then, but I have another proposition.”

“Hm?” he slurred, groggily.

“Would you like to accompany Kaito, Maki and I in our little get-together by the fire? Tomorrow, in the evening.”

“Is this an invitation to death?”

“Maki must have spoken things through with Kaito, I’m positive. And if anything, I’ll be there too. I can shed some light on the matter.”

“That’s still not very tranquilizing, you know?”

Shuichi lowered his head marginally in order to dig his nose into the other’s messy hair. His statement came out muffled. “I’d really like it if you were there...”

Kokichi detached himself and placed both hands on the bartender’s cheeks. There was a delicate rosy tint on his own; he was suddenly smiling, nonetheless. “Who would have thought you were so touchy, clingy and corny in private.”

It was now Shuichi’s turn to turn bright red. He closed his eyes in a futile attempt to hide from view. “If it bothers you I can stop.”

“No no no. I’m overjoyed, mind you.” The mischievous, toothy grin that now graced his lips rubbed Shuichi the wrong way.

“You’re teasing.”

“Wow! Good job, genius! Hard to tell, huh?”

Shuichi grabbed the same cushion that had been thrown onto his face moments ago and smashed it into the other’s in retribution. He felt a grin of his own tug at the corners of his mouth, though, when he heard Kokichi’s full-blown, wholehearted laugh. He was cackling wheezily with his back against the floor, his hands clutching his stomach. An unfamiliar yet cozy spark shone on the bartender’s eyes right then and there. On all fours, he walked to the boy’s shaky frame until he had captured him underneath. Inhaling a determined breath, he smoothly set both hands on each side of Kokichi’s face, caressing his skin with his thumbs in the process. This gesture urged the smaller to considerably tone down his giggling, turning red even though his beam never abandoned his visage. Shuichi was so deep inside his own adoration that he didn’t quite catch they were drawing their noses close together and were soon nuzzling.

Kokichi lowered his voice to that of a husky whisper. “Are you trying to win me over?”

Shuichi did as well. “Nah. Just letting loose for once.” His eyes eluded the other’s for a moment. “I happen to love it when you seem so happy, too, you know?”

Kokichi chuckled from his nose. “Glad to see that makes two of us.”

Everything fell quiet when their lips met; the rustling of the neighborhood’s hanging clothes that threatened to fly away in the wind, the engine of every car that drove in the far-off highway, the incessant ticking of the clock that hung on the kitchen’s wall. Even the upbeat rhythm of their hearts felt miniscule right then. It was chaste, but they found their way to each other again. Kokichi hadn’t wasted any time encircling his arms around Shuichi’s neck, as if wanting to pull him even closer. They kissed thrice. Four times. And when they departed anew and let their noses touch in its place, they laughed. They laughed and laughed like idiots but never pulled apart. Shuichi’s hands abandoned Kokichi’s cheeks, making them suddenly feel all too cold, but slowly traced down the length of his arms until he could pull the other’s hands away from his own nape. He lowered them to each side, intertwining their fingers together. Neither of them wanted to tear their loving gaze away.

Kokichi was the first to break the silence. “Hey, so… Mind if I stay the night over? I kinda like all this private courtesy from my favorite person ever, you know?”

Shuichi sniggered, blowing air out of his nose. “By all means? I thought this much was a given from the beginning.”

“Well, you know. Just wanted to make sure. I’m kinda super sleepy, so if this turns out to be a dream I’m gonna cry. Like a lot.”

The bartender started peppering his cheek and jawline with small, fast smooches, tickling the other enough to elicit yet another set of giggles. “Does this feel real enough?”

“Oh, please,” he melodramatically implored. “Don’t make me say the cheesiest line ever.” They searched each other’s eyes once again. “Do go on, though. I’m on cloud nine.”

Shuichi traced a finger over the outline of Kokichi’s jaw. He lowered his head enough for their noses to gently brush again. “Does this mean you don’t mind trying this out?” he shyly asked. “You know. Us.”

“Are you for real? How can you even ask such a dumb question?” he merrily laughed.

“I just want to make sure you won’t have any regrets, that’s all.”

Kokichi suddenly snapped to reality when he noticed the slight tremble of Shuichi’s whole frame, his erratic breathing. “You’re actually nervous.”

“I told you, didn’t I? I’m really self-conscious.”

His regular pecked him in the corner of his lips. “I haven’t been flirting with you all these months for you to come and simply question my love.”

Shuichi closed his eyes, ultimately calming the beat of his heart. “Ah, hah, I suppose you do have a point.”

Kokichi begrudgingly tilted his head to the side, scrutinizing once more the newspaper on the ground. “Would you be convinced for good if I said I’ll come along with you tomorrow?”

The bartender glanced in the same direction, eyelids opening widely upon getting the bigger picture. “Are you going to burn it?”

There was a nod. “I mean… I don’t need it anymore.”

When their sparkly eyes met again, they stood like that for what it seemed like an eternity. They both wore blank expressions, but understood the meaningfulness behind them nevertheless. Another chaste kiss was meant to happen, yet the unspoken words they threw at one another in that moment were more than reassuring. It was exactly what Shuichi needed to finally feel that awful, gut-wrenching worry that had settled on the pit of his stomach disappear. Kokichi nuzzled deep into the bartender’s chest, as if fearing an unimaginable force could separate them any second.

“Are you sure?” Shuichi said.

“No, but… I don’t belong anywhere, anyway. I already said as much. Having someone who genuinely wants me around is more than enough for me at this point.”

Upon hearing his coy words, Shuichi unwaveringly straightened up, lifting Kokichi in his arms as well and, after digging a hand into his long, wild locks and wrapping him in a tight embrace with the other, he, with the most determination he had ever, possibly felt, softly whispered in his ear.

“I guarantee you; you’re right where you belong.”

 

 

The skies were tinted with the warm hues of the evening —oranges, pinks, and reds that travelled the furthest. There was not a single cloud on sight. The winds blew in accordance to the tide, naturally transporting the scent of the sea and the sun but also the smoke. At this time of the evening many were thankful that the usual, singed black sands didn’t burn their feet. The coastline stretched into the distance. Far, far away, to the north, the image of the leafy mountains blurred and let room for a humble town to stand out in its place; the same location in which one particular night pub awaited to be brought back to life.

Four figures stood in front of the flames, sparks flying higher and higher.

A memory of a neglectful household. A recollection of one’s needs and false pretenses. The musing of a dangerous road that left no choice but to be taken. The shamefulness of being who you are.

The sharp taste of alcohol in their mouths.

Hand in hand, they settle to throw into the fire the bitter reminiscences of a past that’s best forgotten.

Hand in hand, the ashes mark the beginning of better times to arrive.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there. If you’ve made it this far, you’re a real one. Thank you so very much!
> 
> I gotta be honest; this is the first fanfic I’ve ever actually finished, so I’ve been super nervous about the reception. I didn’t want to outright say all this in the beginning notes since I felt like that would be a massive turn-off for a lot of people. That is not to say I don’t have any experience writing, though, but you know. (Also, like I mentioned above, english is not my mother tongue, so I suppose adding that as well would’ve only intensified the deadly introduction. I apologize for my general poor choice at words, haha…)
> 
> If you liked this, please, leave kudos? Or write a comment? It would make my day, and all the time I spent writing this silly thing worth it.
> 
> (Btw, this fanfic was originally going to be titled “Bad Touch on the rocks”, making it so that was Kokichi’s usual cocktail choice instead. He wouldn’t have liked it for the taste per se, but only for the joke potential. “We’re nothing but mammals after all”. Since it was super cringy tho, and I didn’t want people to get the wrong idea of what this whole shebang was about, I decided to bury my poor sense of humor. I wonder if I made the right decision. Welp!)
> 
> UPDATE: I wrote some random trivia about this fic on twitter, since a kind soul showed interest! You can read it here: http://www.twitlonger.com/show/n_1sqre0b


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